The following is an exclusive excerpt from Robert Nastanovich Sr.'s most recent work “The Kaiser's Musikorps of the Great War: 1914-1918”. I was 22 and fighting those bastards in Germany. One day near Munich, I accidentally swallowed most of a cyanide pill, fell asleep in a puddle, and woke with a particularly egregious case of trench-foot. While I’d done my best to hide it, a misstep in an impromptu Infantry Hop-scotch game later in the day revealed the damage. Due to a shortage of funds, I was put in a run-down hospital in eastern Bavaria. One morning I overheard a most horrid noise in the air.
“Doctor,” I asked “are these sounds coming from the psych ward?”
He shook his head, “nein”
“Nine what?” I asked.
He didn’t say. And somehow I sensed I would never truly know what he meant by that.
Craning my neck, I peered out the window on the courtyard below. There I observed three gypsies; one with a lute, one using a small branch to tap on an empty milk carton, the other with the ribcage of some mighty beast. I wondered if the Spanish flu had jumped borders and found its way to these poor chaps, turning their brains to mush.
“Doctor,” I said “I feel a great pity for these men. Are they refugees? Prisoners of war? Circus folk?”
“Doctor,” I asked “are these sounds coming from the psych ward?”
He shook his head, “nein”
“Nine what?” I asked.
He didn’t say. And somehow I sensed I would never truly know what he meant by that.
Craning my neck, I peered out the window on the courtyard below. There I observed three gypsies; one with a lute, one using a small branch to tap on an empty milk carton, the other with the ribcage of some mighty beast. I wondered if the Spanish flu had jumped borders and found its way to these poor chaps, turning their brains to mush.
“Doctor,” I said “I feel a great pity for these men. Are they refugees? Prisoners of war? Circus folk?”
My mind wandered back to the swirling ankle-length dresses in the jazz halls and brothels I used to frequent in America; to the nights where it seemed like the jugs of giggle-water were bottomless...
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